


Repertoire

by whichclothes



Series: Spectresverse [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-29
Updated: 2010-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:04:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichclothes/pseuds/whichclothes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  Spike and Xander explore their new relationship--which turns out to have a few kinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repertoire

  
  
  
  
**Entry tags:**   
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[50kinkyways](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/50kinkyways), [repertoire](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/repertoire), [spectres](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spectres), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike%2Fxander)  
  
---|---  
  
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**Repertoire (1/1)**   
_

**Title:**  Repertoire  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:**  I'm not Joss  
 **Summary:**  Spike and Xander explore their new relationship--which turns out to have a few kinks.  
 **A/N:**  This is a sequel to [**Spectres**](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/212691.html) and [The New Weirdness](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/230547.html) but can be read on its own. Uses the [](http://community.livejournal.com/50kinkyways/profile)[**50kinkyways**](http://community.livejournal.com/50kinkyways/)  prompt "crossdressing."  Beta work by the wonderful [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) .  


 **  
Repertoire  
**

 

Afterward, he and Xander spent loads of time arguing over whose fault it was. Xander kept insisting it was Spike’s fault, that Spike had been evil and had tempted him beyond a mortal man’s ability to resist. Flattering as that was, Spike firmly believed the fault lay with Xander who, it turned out, had a kinky streak wide enough to impress even a vampire.

Way back in Sunnydale, Spike had suspected the boy might be a bit bent. After all, he’d clearly got off on the striptease Dracula had forced Spike to perform. And he’d also spent all that time with Anya, and hadn’t silenced her quite fast enough a few times when she’d hinted about their bedroom activities. But it wasn’t until Spike woke up in Xander’s arms in a crappy flat in Florida that he discovered just how twisted the boy was.

Not that Spike minded.

Their first shag had been vanilla enough. A bit fumbling since it was Xander’s first time with a bloke and a bit quick since neither of them had got a leg over in ages. Very, very nice, though. No complaints. They’d both fallen asleep soon after, Xander knackered after his kidnapping and near-sacrifice and Spike simply knackered. The last years had been long ones.

Spike woke up first and remained motionless, last night’s dried body fluids itching on his skin. He soaked up the rare pleasure of a warm body beneath him, of a heartbeat under his ear. He was a bit afraid Xander would have second thoughts about him when he woke up.

But Xander didn’t. When his eye fluttered open he took a quick look toward the window, where the drapes were securely closed, smiled broadly, and mussed Spike’s already-rumpled hair. In a move that took Spike completely by surprise, he flipped them both over so that he blanketed Spike’s body.

“Somebody woke up randy,” Spike smirked, running a thumb along Xander’s raspy stubble.

“Hmm,” Xander agreed, grinding his groin into Spike’s. “Stop me quick before I make a joke about impaling you with my morning wood.”

Spike playfully slapped Xander’s firm, broad arse. Much to his surprise, though, Xander didn’t protest. Instead, his pupil immediately dilated, his heart sped up, and he waggled his posterior enthusiastically—which had very satisfactory results where he was pressed up against Spike’s awakening cock. “Fancy that, do you?” Spike asked, and swatted him again.

Xander simply grinned and bowed his back, slipping Spike’s right nipple into his mouth and nibbling ungently enough to make Spike grunt. “Too much?” Xander asked, looking up at Spike with concern.

“Not even close, pet.”

Xander seemed to take that as a challenge. He gnawed and sucked and licked at Spike’s poor little nubbin of sensitive flesh until all Spike could do was gasp and tug at his hair. He tried to thrust his hips upward, but Xander chuckled darkly and repositioned himself so Spike was arching uselessly into the air. Then Xander turned his attention to the other nipple, giving it the same maddeningly cruel and tender treatment. After one particularly hard bite, Xander rolled his head up again to look at Spike’s face. Spike watched as Xander’s tongue darted out to lick at a droplet of blood—Spike’s blood—at the corner of his mouth, and that was enough. With an astonished shout, and with his cock still untouched, Spike came.

“Did that take the edge off?” Xander asked smugly. When Spike nodded dumbly, Xander slithered down again, taking the head of Spike’s sticky, still-hard cock between his lips.

“Bloody hell, boy! And I thought you were new to this.”

“Well, yeah, this part. But what’s the point of having a sexy naked vampire in my bed if I can’t take advantage of him?” And he proceeded to run his tongue along the vein on the underside of Spike’s cock.

Driving to Florida a few weeks earlier, Spike had rather expected that he’d be the advantage-taker. He hadn’t been optimistic enough to imagine himself like this, at the mercy of an adventurous and enthusiastic Xander Harris. He was in absolutely no mood to complain.

Xander never had given a bloke head before and he gagged and choked a bit, but he proceeded gamely, sucking eagerly, using one hand to stroke the part of the shaft he couldn’t fit in his mouth. His other hand crept between Spike’s cheeks. Spike was nothing if not obliging at the moment and he bent his knees upward and hooked his arms around them, offering himself fully to Xander. Xander dipped a finger in some of the semen on Spike’s belly and used it to ease the slide of that finger into Spike’s twitching hole.

Spike couldn’t remain silent any longer. He let loose with a long string of curses in a wide variety of languages, and the more he swore, the more vigorously Xander sucked and fucked him—now using two fingers instead of one—until Spike attempted a garbled warning and then again climaxed, this time deep into Xander’s hot throat.

Xander was licking his lips again as he scooted back up the bed. He lay alongside Spike, propping his head on one hand. “Guh,” Spike said.

“I’m not done with you yet. Just taking a breather.”

“You’re trying to shag me to death.”

“You’d only resurrect.”

“Your demon girl once said…. I reckoned she was exaggerating.”

“She had a thousand years of experience, Fangface, and I impressed her.”

“I can see why.”

“One time—normally, I wouldn’t share this except that I’m sure Anya herself would have been happy to tell you if you asked—I made her come seven times in a 24-hour period. And now that I know that vampires are multi-orgasmic too, well, maybe I should try to break my record.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“What about you?” Spike asked, wrapping his hand about Xander’s erection.

“Sadly, I’m only good for one shot. But I can put it off a really, really long time.”

Xander was as good as his word. They didn’t break his record that day, but only because Xander disappeared for a couple hours to go to the butcher’s and buy Spike some blood, then made a stop at an adult store for slick and some toys. By the time the sun set they were both sore, crusty, and very, very happy.

“How about a swim?” Xander said. They were both spread out bonelessly on the living room floor, Xander’s head pillowed on Spike’s stomach. “The apartment’s not that great but the pool’s pretty good. There’s a hot tub, too.”

A soak sounded lovely. Spike gently nudged Xander off him and slowly rose to his feet. He stretched and headed toward the door.

“Um, Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“Public nudity’s kinda frowned on.”

Spike looked down at himself. Well, yeah, he was nude. “What am I meant to wear, then? My jeans? Bloody uncomfortable.”

Xander stood, too. “I’ve got an extra pair of trunks.”

He padded into the bedroom and then returned a minute or two later wearing a pair of orange floral-patterned board shorts. He had a wad of navy fabric in his hand, which he held out toward Spike. “I figured you’d probably prefer these,” he said with a grin.

The last swimming costume Spike had worn was in 1870, a striped wool affair that covered everything from neck to knees, itched terribly, and sagged even before it became wet. He’d worn it for about an hour, stumbling about in the waves like an idiot, before he’d given in and changed back to his regular suit, and spent the remainder of the holiday with his nose in a book. Now he pulled on the garment Xander had handed him, a pair of loose shorts with an elastic and string waist, and was convinced he looked as much as prat as he had 140 years earlier.

Xander was unsuccessful at keeping a straight face. “C’mon, man. It’s dark out anyway and pretty soon we’ll be under the water where nobody can see.”

The swimming area was at the center of Xander’s complex behind a chain-link fence. Xander used a key to unlock the gate and then led the way to a pair of plastic lounge chairs. There was a large, square pool with a low diving board; a much smaller kiddie pool shaped like an egg; and a whirlpool big enough to seat eight or ten. A pair of barbeques and a long tile bar were off on one side, and potted palms and tables with umbrellas were scattered throughout. A middle-aged couple was sitting at one of the tables, drinking from big plastic mugs and playing cards, while a girl about Xander’s age dangled her feet in the shallow end of the big pool and nattered quietly on her mobile phone.

“’T’s nice,” Spike said.

“Yeah.” Xander draped a garish beach towel over his chair and handed Spike a towel with more sedate blue and yellow stripes. “That’s why I picked this apartment. I like to swim. It’s relaxing.”

“Is that how you’ve managed to keep so fit?” Spike asked, eyeing Xander’s muscular, tanned chest appreciatively.

Xander blushed a bit. “I guess. Um, so I’m gonna do a few laps, okay?”

“Suit yourself.”

Xander trotted over to a showerhead near the fence and gave himself a quick rinse-off. Then he climbed the diving board and angled himself into the water, knifing neatly beneath the surface and swimming the length of the pool. Spike stood there for some time, watching. The boy was much more graceful in the water than on land. Perhaps too graceful: Spike’s cock made a valiant attempt to rise again, and to avoid looking even more ridiculous in tented shorts, Spike rinsed himself off as well and then lowered himself into the hot tub.

The jets of hot water felt brilliant, and after watching his boy a while longer, Spike leaned his head back against the edge and allowed his eyes to fall shut. He may have even dozed a bit, because the next thing he knew, Xander was climbing in as well and seating himself straddled across Spike’s lap. Xander leaned forward and sucked on Spike’s stretched neck.

Spike lifted his head to look about. The girl and the couple had gone, but quite a few of the second floor flats had glass doors leading to balconies that overlooked the pool area, and lights inside indicated that some of them might currently be occupied. “Neighbors can see,” Spike said—a bit hoarsely, as Xander nibbled at his jugular.

“Then we’ll give ‘em a show,” Xander murmured, pressing his hips forward.

So his boy was a bit of an exhibitionist as well. More and more interesting. “I’ve never met a human so insatiable.”

“I’m 25, Spike. I’ve spent more than a decade thinking about sex and—with the exception of when Ahn and I were together—not actually having much of it. I have a hell of a lot of lost time to make up.”

He resumed gnawing on Spike’s neck, at the same time dropping his hands under the water, between the back waistband of Spike’s borrowed trunks and Spike’s skin, stroking gently at the top of the cleft of Spike’s arse.

“Ever since that thing with Drac I’ve been…imagining things I wanted to try with you.” It was hard to understand Xander as his lips were still pressed to Spike’s skin.

“You’ve tried quite a few.”

“I’ve barely even started.”

Spike liked the sound of that very much. A part of him kept reminding himself that more than a quick fling was too much to hope for, but another part of him did hope for more. Desperately. And the rest was just enjoying the way Xander felt on him, against him, warm and wet and solid.

“’S bloody difficult to shag under water,” Spike pointed out. “Friction’s all wrong.”

“Yeah, okay,” Xander said. “But I’m wondering if I can make a vampire come just by doing…this.” And he bit again at Spike’s neck, hard, just over the carotid.

As it turned out, he _could_ make a vampire come, just like that.

 

***

 

They slept late the following morning, again entwined tightly. Xander complained about Spike’s cold feet and then snored. It was lovely. When they finally awoke, they shagged again, slowly, then Xander dragged Spike into the shower and blew him as the water cascaded over them.

They spent the afternoon heaped together on the sofa watching shite on the telly. Spike didn’t admit it out loud, but the sodding cuddling was as nice as the sex. Xander seemed to enjoy himself as well, lolling about and eating pizza and leaning over every now and then for a pepperoni-flavored snog. “Man, I feel like a complete vegetable,” he yawned at about 7:30.

“We could go out if you fancy it. Have a few drinks, or—”

“Nah, I’m comfy. Besides, I gotta go to work in the morning.”

“Oh. Work.”

“Yes, work. So that I may keep myself in the style to which I have become accustomed because, funnily enough, part-time demon fighting doesn’t pay very well.”

“I tried to suss out where you worked, but the sun always caught me.”

Xander chuckled and leaned back against Spike’s bare chest. Spike had never bothered to get fully dressed that day. “One of the disadvantages to being a vamp stalker,” Xander said. “Only being able to stalk at night.”

“’T’s fortunate those Andwin demons kidnapped you near sundown.”

“That’s me, the guy with all the luck.”

Spike grabbed Xander’s hand and kissed the dry and calloused palm. “You work in construction?”

“Yep. I’m a roofer. Not really my favorite job but it pays okay and the work’s all during the day, which leaves me free for patrol at night.”

“Burning the candle at both ends, innit?”

“Hey, you only live once. Except, well, you. You’ve got more lives than a cat. _I_ only live once. So while I’m at work tomorrow—”

“You want me to make myself scarce,” Spike finished glumly.

Xander sat up and twisted around so he was looking at Spike. “Actually, I was kinda hoping you were planning on sticking around for a while. All that stalking oughtta be worth more than one really good weekend.”

Spike heaved a sigh of relief. “Your flat is a bit nicer than my truck.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“If I’m to stay a while I’ve a few things in the Ford. And I need to do some laundry.”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want you running ‘round the place bare-assed or anything, would we?” Xander leered.

“Git.” Spike pushed Xander away and stood. He left the flat and went out to the car park, then opened up the back of his camper shell. It had been his home, more or less, for the past two years, and it looked pathetic. Hardly bigger than a coffin, and cold in the winter. And lonely. He sneered at himself and gathered his few things—three shirts, an extra pair of jeans, a couple of books, a little bag with his comb and the hair pomade he liked.

Xander was waiting for him just inside the door to the flat. He closed and locked the door and then rested his hands on Spike’s shoulders. “Hey, I promise I’m not gonna get all chick-flicky here, and tell me if I should shut up, because I don’t really know what the rules are for a…a thing between two guys. One of whom is a vampire guy. But I’m really glad you’re here and I hope…I hope you stay.” He flinched a bit as if fearing Spike’s reply.

But Spike only stared at him in astonishment. The boy— _his_ boy?—wanted him. “Ta,” he finally managed to say, wondering if Xander heard the unshed tears in his voice.

“So, um, let me show you the washer.”

As it turned out, the washer and dryer were tucked in a cupboard in the loo. Xander shoved Spike’s clothing in there—Spike peeled off his jeans and handed them to Xander as well, earning himself a nice grope—and as Xander measured detergent and poked at buttons, Spike idly opened drawers.

“Erm, pet?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you have makeup in here?” Had the boy had a girlfriend serious enough to leave her things there?

But Xander laughed and shut the cupboard door. “Those are Dawn’s. She and Buffy live a couple miles from here, but they get into these huge fights at least once or twice a month and Dawn ends up crashing in my spare bedroom for a night or two. I guess she got tired of dragging her stuff with her and decided to store some of it here. She’s got clothes in the bedroom closet, too.”

Spike picked up a small plastic tube. He read the tiny sticker at the end. “Wine on Ice?”

“Can you believe there are people whose job it is to make up names for this shit? Like this one: Pink Wink.”

Spike snorted and chose another lipstick. “Or this: Plum-tastic.”

Xander took the tube from Spike and pulled off the cap. “I dunno. I kinda like this one. It’d look pretty on you,” he teased.

“'Pretty,’ whelp?”

“Definitely.” Xander’s eye was sparkling. “I bet most girls would kill for lips like yours. And I _know_ they’d kill for your cheekbones.”

“Is that so?”

Xander nodded gleefully and then swiped the tip of the lipstick across Spike’s bottom lip.

And then something very strange happened.

Because there was something so unquestionably intimate about being touched that way, and because Xander was so close, smelling so delicious, and he was so fucking gorgeous when he smiled like that…. Spike was instantly, almost achingly hard. Which Xander couldn’t fail to notice, seeing as Spike was naked and Xander was standing close enough that Spike’s cock was poking him in the belly.

They both looked down at Spike’s erection, then back up at one another. Xander’s smile changed, becoming just as beautiful but considerably more heated. Slowly this time, he pressed the lipstick to Spike’s mouth, carefully spreading the stuff first over Spike’s bottom lip and then over his top. When he was finished, he examined his work critically and wiped a bit of stray makeup away with his pinky.

He dropped the lipstick back into the drawer. He rummaged about for a moment and then his hand emerged with a black plastic compact. He snapped it open to reveal a short, broad brush and a pinkish square. “Apricot Flush,” he announced. He swirled the brush against the pink and then lifted it to Spike’s face. The slow tickle of the bristles across his cheek was amazingly erotic. Spike felt a drop of fluid gather at the head of his cock and then slide slowly down.

“How do you know how to do this?” Spike asked in a near-whisper.

“I’ve spent most of my life around girls. I’ve picked up a few things.”

“You don’t…you don’t wish _I_ was a girl, do you?” Because they hadn’t really discussed the sexual orientation thing, and Spike knew how fussy humans could get about that.

Xander put the blush away and stroked his forefinger along Spike’s cock, just once. “Nope. Very satisfied with the standard equipment here.” Then he pawed in the drawer some more, this time finding what looked like a green pencil.

“Stay still,” he said, slowly dragging the soft point along Spike’s lower eyelid. “Don’t want you losing an eye, too.”

“Used to wear eyeliner back in the 70s. Mind you, loads of blokes did. It was…a look.”

Xander chuckled. “I’m sure it was.” His tongue crept out between his lips as he concentrated on the other eye, and if Spike hadn’t been staying still, he would have swooped forward and sucked that tongue into his own mouth.

Next, Xander found another plastic tube, this one long and thin. He unscrewed the top and then, with infinite care, applied the tiny brush to Spike’s lashes. Spike actually moaned when Xander finished with the mascara and then smoothed his scarred brow with his thumb.

Finally, there were colors for Spike’s eyelids, a trio of smoky grays that Xander stroked on with the little applicator and then blended with the pad of his finger. He stepped back and tilted his head, giving Spike a close inspection.

“I expect I look a complete nancy,” Spike said.

“No.” Xander’s voice had grown husky. “You’re stunning. Still all man, though. I mean, in addition to the obvious,” another cruelly brief stroke of Spike’s cock. “I don’t know. It’s like the makeup sort of highlights your masculinity, I guess.”

Spike felt as turned on as Xander looked. Having so much care lavished on a face he couldn’t even see, being treated like someone _worthy_ of such care, as if he were valuable, precious…bloody hell. The boy was going to make him come again.

But then Xander got a distinctly wicked gleam in his eye—evil enough that it occurred to Spike he would have made a lovely vampire. “What?” Spike demanded.

“I was just thinking…Dawn’s clothes are here. And she’s almost as tall as you nowadays and you’re pretty skinny….” He let his voice drift away.

Spike paused, considering. He remembered a few occasions when Dru had been in a particular sort of mood, and when he’d allowed her to lace corsets over his ribs, to slip silk or velvet onto his body, to fluff at skirts so that they’d rustle when he walked. The fabrics had felt so delicious, so different to the cotton and wool he was used to. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon fantasy among Victorian Englishmen, although few had admitted it then. The…the naughtiness of wearing a woman’s clothing was a big attraction, he reckoned.

“All right,” Spike said, and Xander’s lips spread in a slow, wide smile. “Wait for me on the sofa,” Spike said.

Xander nearly tripped over his own feet scrambling to comply.

Spike hadn’t previously been in the second bedroom. It was sparely furnished with a twin bed and a small chest of drawers; two large cardboard boxes were piled in one corner. But the bed was covered neatly in a quilt that looked as if it were made of scraps of bright sari fabric, and there was a framed print on one wall of Hokusai’s _Great Wave_. It appeared as if Xander had tried to make Dawn a comfortable place to escape her sister.

And perhaps she escaped often, because when Spike opened the cupboard he discovered it to be full of Dawn’s clothes. It was mostly jeans and blouses, actually, and a few skirts, but there were also a dozen or so dresses. He moved the hangers, considering his options. He rejected one with a leopard print and a strange wide neck, pushed aside a lacy white number, and then chose a bright red sleeveless one in some sort of floaty material with a simple v-neck and a short skirt. It reminded him a bit of something a Greek goddess might wear when strolling about her temple. He smiled at his own foolishness, but when he slipped it over his head, the fabric whispered against his skin enticingly. The fit wasn’t bad, either, with the skirt ending mid-thigh.

On an impulse, he went over to the chest and pulled open the top drawer. It was full of little lacy things and he felt more than a bit perverted—these were the Nibblet’s things, after all—but then he spied a pair of knickers with the tag still on. He held them up: they were black and tiny and silky and, in his view, not at all appropriate for the Bit. But for a bent demon? Why not. He slipped them on, tucking his painful erection into the front as best as he could.

Xander was sitting on the couch, his back to the hallway, so he didn’t see Spike's entrance into the living room. As soon as Spike stepped into sight, though, Xander’s breath hitched and his face flushed. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned.

Xander was still dressed in a pair of worn jeans, but Spike smirked at the very prominent bulge between his boy’s spread legs. “Like it, do you?”

“My boat is so floated. C’mere.”

Spike did, walking slowly until his legs bumped up against the sofa cushion and Xander’s knees were on either side of him. Xander ran his hands gently up and down Spike’s sides, over his arse, under the skirt. He pressed the heel of his palm against Spike’s groin, quite hard, and Spike let out a surprised huff of air. “Pet….”

“Shh.” Xander moved both hands to Spike’s hips and pushed him slightly back. Then Xander slid off the sofa, onto his knees, and stuck his head under the skirt. He began to mouth gently at Spike’s cock so that the thin material of the panties was soon soaked through and Spike could only widen his stance a bit and try to keep his footing.

Xander slid his hands between Spike’s buttocks and the fabric, squeezing and kneading. Spike was doing all right until Xander bit at his frenulum—still through the fabric—and at the same time stuck one thick finger into Spike’s crack, right up against his entrance. Spike grabbed Xander’s head, which was still under his skirt, and came with a roar.

A moment later, Xander sat back on his heels and freed his head from the dress. He grinned up at Spike. “You just ruined Dawn’s outfit.”

Spike looked down at himself. “She has plenty more.”

“Yeah, but maybe this was her favorite.”

“So?”

“So…I think you’ve earned a punishment.”

Spike’s cock—his poor, overworked cock—hadn’t even had a chance to soften much, and now it was as hard as ever. “And you reckon you’re the one to give me that punishment, boy?”

Xander rose to his feet and took a half-step closer so they were almost touching. He stood very straight, emphasizing the difference of two inches or so in height. “I think so,” he growled.

Now, Spike was perfectly aware that he was a vampire and Xander was only a human, but for the moment they could pretend that Xander was stronger and that Spike was delicate and weak in his makeup and girl’s kit. It wasn’t a bad feeling. Spike fancied strong partners and, after over a century of caring for Dru, the idea of someone being in charge of him—even if only briefly—was appealing.

Spike lowered his gaze and in a soft voice said, “’M sorry. I’ve been very naughty, I have. You _should_ punish me.” But he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from twitching.

Xander nuzzled his lips against the shell of Spike’s ear and cupped Spike’s ass with one hand. “I should,” he agreed. He took Spike’s hand then and pulled him over to the armchair. Xander collapsed back onto the chair, reached under Spike’s skirt to pull the knickers down—keeping them looped about Spike’s ankles like a lacy fetter—and patted his lap. “Right here,” he ordered.

Spike bent over. Xander was good at this. He tugged and nudged at Spike until Spike’s head was hanging low and his bum was high; at the same time, Xander made very sure that Spike’s cock hung between Xander’s legs where it couldn’t get friction from anything. Xander flipped the skirt up, fully revealing Spike’s backside. “Nice,” he said, smoothing his palm over the cheeks. His hand was rough from work, and hot, and felt very heavy. And then he hit—hard—startling a yelp out of Spike.

“Nicer,” Xander said.

“Less talk, more action,” Spike complained, which, as he’d hoped, earned him an entire volley of slaps and swats.

It didn’t hurt at first, but soon it began to smart a bit, and then his arse was stinging with every touch and he knew his skin must be nearly as red as his dress. He realized he was rocking his hips, humping back to meet each slap and then forward to pump his cock into the air.

Xander was breathing hard.

“You gonna come?” Xander panted. “Just like this, just from getting spanked.”

“English vice, love. Can’t help it, can— Ow!” That had been a particularly hard blow.

“My hands are”—swat—“hurting.” Swat. “Maybe after work tomorrow”—swat—“I should stop by Surf’s Up”—swat—“and get a paddle.” Swat. “Or maybe a nice”—swat—“ _hard_ ”—swat—“cane.”

“Xan!!” Spike cried as, inevitably, he came again.

And then the door burst open.

To his credit, Xander didn’t dump Spike unceremoniously to the floor. But he didn’t do much else either, simply freezing with his hand poised over Spike’s arse.

Various assorted screams and yells ensued.

 

***

 

Ten minutes later, everyone was gathered in the living room. Spike was back in his usual jeans and tee, the dress and knickers shoved in the rubbish bin, his face scrubbed clean. He sat on the sofa, rather gingerly. Xander sat next to him, now with a t-shirt on as well. His face was bright red and he hadn’t yet managed to utter a coherent sentence. The Watcher had begun to sit in the armchair and then, when it occurred to him what had just been happening on there, he’d jumped up as if he’d been bitten. He was leaning against a wall. The Slayer was pacing with her arms on her hips, her mouth set in a familiar frown. And the Bit was near the door, her face pale with shock.

When she’d gathered her thoughts, Buffy planted herself in front of the sofa. “What the _hell_ is going on here?” she demanded. “Ten words or less.”

“We were shagging. More or less. And that’s nine,” Spike smirked.

Xander whacked him in the arm.

“You were— But you’re dead! And you’re not gay! Xander’s not gay either! And that was _not_ shagging!” Her voice went a bit squeaky.

In his most reasonable tone, Spike said, “Haven’t been dust for years, which Peaches knows perfectly well, by the way. I’m a vampire and we’re flexible. And the boy, well, turns out he’s flexible as well. Very.” He smiled at her. “Shagging comes in many shapes and sizes, ducks. It’s not always your sort with the punching and the—”

“Spike!” Xander hit him again, harder.

Spike rubbed his arm. “Oi!”

“Let me try before things get dusty.” Xander took a few deep breaths. “Friday night I got kidnapped by these fish demons—”

“Andwin?” Giles interrupted. “Here?”

“I guess. They were gonna sacrifice me. Spike stepped in just in the nick of time and killed the head fish and saved me. He’s been kinda…watching me for the past few weeks. So we came back here, and…and remember that thing with Dracula and the ghosts, and how Spike and I never quite shared the details of what happened?”

“You and Spike had sex with Dracula?” Buffy squawked.

Spike made a face.

“Um, not exactly,” Xander said. “But Spike and I kinda…shared a moment. And we wanted to see whether…whether we could share more than that.”

“Like body fluids?” she asked angrily.

Xander stopped stuttering and grew angry. “Like sex, yes! But also…companionship, I guess. Friendship maybe. This may come as a surprise to all of you—God knows it came as one to me—but I _like_ Spike! He’s sexy and funny and brave and smart.”

Spike listened in astonishment. He hadn’t expected the boy to defend him like that, not in front of his friends. He was even more shocked when Xander grabbed his hand. “Look,” Xander said. “Spike’s…well, he’s Spike. But he accepts me for whatever I am and that’s pretty goddamn special. I’m gayed up and sorta dating the undead. Deal.” He clutched Spike’s hand very tightly and glared at them all.

Over near the door, Dawn’s face had regained some color. “I think they’re kinda hot,” she said, earning a frown from her sister and a thankful smile from Xander.

Even the Watcher looked a bit less shellshocked. “This isn’t…well, this isn’t advisable. But I thought the same with Anya, once, and Xander is an adult. Buffy, you’re hardly in a position to object to…relationships with vampires.”

Buffy shook her head. “Yeah? Well we know how great those worked out for me. And anyway…okay, Xander’s gonna start singing show tunes. Fine. But that…with the dress and the spanking and…. That’s gross, Giles!”

Giles blushed and opened his mouth and closed it like a fish. Spike started to say something but Xander hit him for the third time with his free hand. “I don’t care whether you think it’s gross, Buff. It’s not really any of your business. It’s private. What were you doing bursting into my place like that anyway?”

“You didn’t answer your phone,” she answered defensively. “We were worried. And then we, um, heard Spike shouting your name….”

“Well, next time you’ll know to knock.”

Giles and Buffy and Dawn left soon afterward. Buffy was still grumbling, but quietly. Giles looked like he wanted a drink very badly. And Dawn gave them both quick hugs and told them to leave her clothing alone. It was very quiet when they were gone.

Spike turned to Xander, who was slumped on the sofa again. “Pet, if this is going to be too difficult….”

Xander looked up at him. “Of course it’s gonna be difficult. Since when is anything in my life easy? But you know what? I have the feeling you might be worth it.”

Spike’s arse was sore and his dick would've waved the white flag if it were capable of waving anything right then. But he reckoned there was still a bit of time to snuggle on the couch before his boy had to turn in. “Go click on the telly,” he said. “I’ll fetch us some beers and start a shopping list for you for tomorrow. We’ll need some tea—none of that shite in the bag, either—and blood, and I wonder whether there’s someplace here at the end of the world to buy a proper biscuit?”

He glanced back over his shoulder as he walked toward the kitchen. Xander just sat there looking dazed…and happy.

They could argue over whose fault it all was in the morning. Whoever was responsible probably ought to be punished.

 

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~~~fin~~~  
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